


Bulimia is so '87

by iba



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Bulimia, Depression, Eating Disorders, Heather Duke is underrated, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 04:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iba/pseuds/iba
Summary: A look at the life of Heather Duke, who is not as confident as she seemsMore anorexia than bulimia because I'm projecting onto her oopsTW eating disorders





	Bulimia is so '87

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by @aseriesofessays Purple, check it out

A shrill beeping filled the air, waking Heather from her nightmare. Gasping for breath, she wiped the sleep from her eyes, trying to convince herself the images flooding through her brain were not real, nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination. Heather had been plagued with bad dreams for years, but in recent months her nightmares had begun to revolve around food rather than her usual worries of abandonment and failure. 

Heather stood slowly and waited for the world to stop spinning before she headed to the bathroom- she had an appointment with her best friend and worst enemy- the scales. She stepped on the scales but closed her eyes, too scared to see the numbers that would determine her mood for the day. These numbers were her worth, her identity, her life. She was trapped in a prison of calories and fear, the number decreasing was her only redemption, her only way out of this hell.  
“What’s your damage Heather?” she whispered angrily “Stop being a pussy and open your damn eyes”  
1… 2… 3… Heather took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The ugly number made her feel sick to her stomach. No breakfast today then. Or lunch. Or dinner. She was too fat to eat, far too big to digest food instead of throwing it back up. Besides, she was so full of fear and self loathing, there couldn’t possibly be any space left inside her for food.

Half an hour later, Heather was sitting on the floor of her closet sobbing, surrounded by piles of discarded clothes. She was so disgustingly fat, she couldn’t wear miniskirts like Heather Mcnamara with her long thin cheerleader legs. She couldn’t wear tight clothes to show off her figure like Heather Chandler does. She was the ugly useless fat friend, and one day Heather and Heather would figure out she didn’t deserve to be with them and leave her. Heather pulled on an oversized green blazer, pointedly avoiding the mirror so she didn’t have to see how bad she looked

Leaving the mess on the floor, Heather hurried to her Jeep. She was late on the first day of senior year. Heather Chandler would crucify her. Just before she left her house, she ran back upstairs to grab her copy of Moby Dick. She had fallen in love with it while studying it in English last year, it was her escape when the world was too much and her thoughts were overwhelming her. Chandler called her all kinds of names for reading it in public, they had a goddamn reputation to uphold, but it was the last part of her that would not bow down to Heather. That book went everywhere with her and she knew she’d want something to hide behind today.

The bell was ringing as she entered the school building, but the thought of going to class made Heather start to shake uncontrollably, so she headed towards the bathroom instead. It took all her strength to keep herself from running but she made her strides even and long, her head held high, her hands clutching her skirt to stop them trembling.

Suddenly she heard Heather Chandler’s golden laugh echoing down the corridor, followed by Heather Macnamara’s quieter giggles. Praying they weren’t laughing at her, she made her way over to them, anxiety making her mouth dry and her throat tight.  
“Heather!” called Heather Mcnamara, waving cheerfully. Heather forced a small smile onto her face, and turned to Chandler. She almost dropped her book. Heather Chandler, the mythic bitch, the demon queen, the almighty, the ruler of Westerburg, was smiling at her. They’d been friends for years, but it was no secret they hated each other. Yet Chandler was staring at her with the look she normally reserved for Heather Mcnamara- a look that made Heather feel warm inside, feel loved, feel almost okay again.  
“Heather” she greeted her, her eyes glued to the green blazer. “Green is your colour!”  
Hope welled up inside of Heather, and she resolved to only wear green from now on. She knew red suited her better, but if green made her fit in, so be it.

Heather felt like she was floating all morning, but the start of lunch shattered her bubble of joy like pricking a balloon with a pin. Woodenly she filled a tray with food and joined the Heathers at their usual table in the centre of the room. There were too many eyes on her, she was burning with their weight, she could catch fire any second. Heather Chandler basked in the attention, too busy gossiping to notice Heather pushing her food around her plate without ever actually taking a bite. When Heather Mcnamara rose to throw away her empty plate, she followed, casually dumping her full one while trying to ignore the burning hunger in her stomach. 

By the time school was over, Heather’s head was pounding, she wanted to go home and crawl under the covers and cry. She wanted to sleep for a thousand years. But she was no sleeping beauty. There was no prince to kiss her and fix everything. So she smiled and nodded when Heather Mcnamara invited her over after school, even though everything inside her was begging for some time alone. Besides, the Mcnamara family were nicer than the Chandler family. Hell, they were nicer than her own family most of the time.

She paid little attention during their game of croquet, barely noticing when Heather Chandler knocked her out or when Heather Mcnamara chattered on and on about school and boys and cheerleading. The afternoon passed in a blur, and then it was dinnertime and she was sitting between Heather and Heather, sweating so hard it was a miracle they didn’t notice. There was no getting out of this meal. She shouldn’t have come here. She wanted to cry, they were going to make her even fatter and there was no way not to eat, and that meant she’d have to purge. But she was at Heather’s house, how could she purge here? Her train of thought was interrupted by Heather passing her the potatoes. Carbohydrates. She was so hungry. Do not eat. So hungry. Carbohydrates. So fat. So hungry.  
She took a small spoonful of potatoes, her hand shaking as she held the spoon. A piece of chicken, some peas. She forced herself to listen to the conversation going on around her, to fake a laugh at Heather Mcnamara’s story, and then to take a small bite. She stayed quiet, focussing on making it through the meal, while Heather Chandler decided what was the Very look this year, which boys were deserving of their attention, and what parties they would go to. 

Finally Heather couldn’t stand the weight of the food inside her any longer. “Excuse me please” she announced and slipped away to the bathroom furthest from the table. She tried to throw up as silently as she could, terrified of people knowing her dirty little secret. When she had finished, she made her way back to the table, throat burning but brain appeased. No one seemed to think anything of her absence, and why should they? She was too fat to have an eating disorder.

She went straight to bed when she got home, not having the energy to do her homework. Senior year had just started and she was already behind. Not that it mattered. All that mattered as the number on the scale in the morning, the number of inches around her thighs, the number of calories she ate. Tomorrow would be exactly the same, and the day after, and every day for the rest of the year. Heather Duke was sad and anxious and trapped. But as long as no one could see it, it was okay. As long as she could pretend to be a shallow cruel petty bitch without a care in the world, she would survive. When she was thin, then she would be happy. Heather shut her eyes, imagining a world where she was first choice, where she was skinny and pretty and free, the images calming her until she could sleep.


End file.
